


Little Rascals

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: De-Aged Castiel, De-Aged Dean Winchester, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch's spell de-ages Cas and Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Rascals

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to [clotpoleofthelord](http://clotpoleofthelord.tumblr.com) for beta'ing this, and also for Kevin's line.

 

“Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me,” Sam says when he walks into the kitchen. Seated at the table are two little kids wearing clothes that were clearly made for adults. “Who the heck are you?”

They turn around, and both of them promptly begin to cry. They look to be about four, maybe five years old, although Sam can’t really tell. They’re both blonde, but one has a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones, with bright green eyes. The other one has hooded blue eyes, and he seems to be scowling at the same time as the tears are dripping down his face.

Sam scrubs his face. He has a feeling he knows who these two are. There’s actually very little chance they could be anyone else, but he’s an optimist at heart. He crouches down so he’s at their level.

“Okay guys, I need you to hold it together for a second, okay?” The one with blue eyes sniffles, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of the t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s large enough on him that the sleeves hang down almost to his wrists. Sam winces, because it’s an AC/DC t-shirt, and if this is who he thinks it is, when this is all over, Dean is going to be pissed about the snot that the little kid is leaving in long trails along the sleeve. Blue eyes nods solemnly, and green eyes gives another three or four sniffles, hiccups, and, when he’s elbowed by blue eyes, he nods too.

“Ok, good. Now.” Sam sighs. How is this his life again? “Dean? Cas?”

They both nod again, eyes wide and solemn. There’s a big fat tear hanging on the lip of Dean’s right eye, and the motion knocks it loose. It runs down a chubby cheek and hangs off of his chin for a moment before plopping to the floor.

“Okay. So, um, I’m guessing that the witch you two went after yesterday managed to cast some kind of spell before you ganked her?”

Two more nods, but then Dean folds his arms over his little chest and stares mulishly at his de-aged best friend. “Cas wouldn’t let me gank her.”

Cas whips around and glares at Dean. “She was a girl, Dean! You don’t gank girls!”

“Okay, okay, listen, guys. Um...” Sam sighs again, thinking that they ought to find a way to get hazard pay for shit like this. Because Dean and Cas are bad enough as adults - well, okay - as one adult, and one ancient multidimensional wave of celestial intent. Having to deal with them as five-year-olds? Not Sam’s idea of a good time.

“So, do you know how this happened?” Sam shakes his head. “No, of course you don’t, because you’re what, five?”

Dean looks at his hands, and then back up at Sam, and shrugs. Cas doesn’t seem to be paying attention, focusing instead on Dean. As usual.

“Okay, first, we need to get you two some clothes, because you can’t wear your regular clothes, you’re practically drowning in them.” Sam stands, his knees creaking a bit, and reaches for his cell phone. He can’t very well leave them here by themselves. Besides the fact that they’re little kids, the bunker is filled with all kinds of mysterious objects and dangerous weapons that they’ve only begun to catalog. There’s no telling what trouble the two of them could get themselves into if left on their own.

Sam considers his options. There aren’t a whole lot of people he could trust to look after his de-aged brother and his best friend (again, what is his life that this is even something that he could actually think?), and even that number gets smaller still when he has to factor in geography. Garth is not a choice, because he’s off in San Diego after a striga. Jody’s in Sioux Falls, that’s too far away, and they haven’t heard from Charlie in a while.

That leaves Kevin.

Sam’s not willing to put money down on the chances that Kevin will say yes, but he’s got to try every option before going on to the next step. He chooses Kevin from his contact list and waits for Kevin to pick up.

Kevin sounds incredibly grumpy when he picks up his phone, and Sam can’t really blame him. It’s not as if Kevin’s experiences with the Winchesters have been stellar.

Unsurprisingly, Kevin’s response is hysterical laughter. He says, “I’m in Advanced Placement, not Early Childhood Ed!” before he hangs up.

Sam rubs his eyes and wonders if maybe he should have just stayed in bed. “Okay guys, we’re going to have to go and buy you some clothes, and then we’ll try to figure out how to get you better after. I need to figure out how we’re going to...” Sam walks out of the kitchen, tapping his cell phone against his chin. He has no idea what he’s going to put Dean and Cas in to go to the store, but maybe there’s something in the bunker he can use before they go to Target.

After about twenty minutes of searching, Sam manages to turn up two pairs of shorts and two old t-shirts of Dean’s that shrank in the wash. He’s not certain why Dean kept them, but they’re small enough that they won’t look like Dean and Cas are wearing dresses.

Back in the kitchen, Dean and Cas have managed to manufacture themselves some kind of breakfast. There are empty bowls all over the place, and enormous milk and orange juice spills. Dean looks up and grins with his mouth full of cereal. Milk dribbles out of the side of his mouth and gets on his shirt. Sam groans.

“You guys are menaces,” he says, but without real heat. He starts cleaning up the kitchen.

Sam can’t figure out if Dean and Cas still have all their memories and have just shrunk in size, or if they’re actually de-aged to their current status. Clearly, they remembered some things, but Sam was leaning towards de-aged rather than just shrunk. Part of it had to do with the crying, but the other part of it had to do with the mess in the kitchen.

Dean’s attachment to his room and the kitchen was, in Sam’s opinion, getting into the realm of unhealthy. Adult Dean would never allow this mess to happen in his kitchen. This, to Sam, is one of the biggest pieces of evidence that Dean and Cas aren’t just small versions of themselves, but actually younger.

Sam sighs. Dean and Cas try to help him clean, but they get underfoot more than anything. Because they are just over three feet tall, Sam is more than twice their size, and he has a hard time even seeing them. The second time he trods on tiny toes (and has to dry the resulting tears), he plops them both down on the kitchen chairs and admonishes them not to move. One tiny little bit.

He ignores the giggling that occurs behind his back as he cleans. Clearly their interpretation of “don’t move,” includes tickling and poking each other. Sam rolls his eyes. It seems that whatever barriers or self-imposed limits they’d put on themselves as adults don’t hold when they’re this age. Further proof they’ve been de-aged.

Sam cleans up as quickly as he can, leaving the dishes in the sink (he figures that whatever he has to deal with today can be repaid by Dean doing the dishes when he’s re-adulted). He drags the two of them down the hallway to the bathroom and scrubs most of the orange juice off their faces and...

“How did you get orange juice in your hair, Cas??” Sam asks, scrubbing the wash cloth through the thick blonde locks. Cas just looks up at him with his big blue eyes and points at Dean, who at least has the decency to look at the floor, somewhat abashed.

Sam gets them dressed with a minimum of fuss, and then realizes that he’ll have to get shoes too. At least the weather is nice. He can strap them into the shopping cart and explain that they removed their shoes in the car if anyone asks.

He buckles them into the back seat of the Impala with a severe warning not to fool around with the seat belts. “No car seats. I’m gonna get arrested,” he mutters to himself as he starts the car up. He resists the temptation to press the pedal to the floor and drive to the Target as quickly as possible.

Shopping with Dean and Cas is about as much fun as Sam had expected it to be. They both have opinions about what they want to wear, and, of course, those opinions are not cheap. Sam ends up buying several t-shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans for the two of them, despite Dean’s pouting over a tiny leather jacket that Sam has to admit Dean looks pretty adorable in.

“Sorry bud, it’s too expensive, and it’s definitely too warm for that jacket.” Dean spends most of the rest of the trip giving Sam the silent treatment. In the shoe aisle, Cas tackles Dean to the ground and tickles him into a fit of giggles to beat the band, and Dean’s a lot less grumpy after that.

Until they try on shoes.

Dean’s pretty easy to please, actually, settling on a pair of dark blue Keds.

Cas wants My Little Pony sneakers.

“Cas, you can’t get those!” Dean says in a loud voice.

Cas frowns. “Why not? I like them. They’re pink.”

“That’s why you can’t! Boys don’t wear pink.”

Cas looks truly puzzled at this statement. “But sometimes you...” Dean slaps his hand over Cas’s mouth. He’s wearing an enormous scowl, and even Cas looks a bit taken aback by it.

“Cas, if you want the pink sneakers, I’ll get you the pink sneakers,” Sam says. They’re actually cheaper than the Keds that Dean wants, and even though Sam has long since despaired of getting out of the store without spending a fortune, he feels obligated to keep an eye on expenses a little bit. They still have to buy car seats, after all.

Cas looks happy (though Dean’s hand is still clapped over his mouth), and Dean reluctantly releases his grip on his friend. They take their purchases up to the front and pay for them, and then Sam takes them into the men’s room to get them changed into clothing that actually fits them.

He drags them to the Goodwill shop for car seats, and is able to find two that will work for the boys. By then, Dean’s voice has taken on a whiny tone, and Cas is looking surly. A woman with two of her own children stops Sam on his way out of the store.

“Not yours, I’m guessing?” she asks in a kindly voice.

Sam doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry. “No, they’re...” how the hell is he meant to explain who Dean and Cas really are? “No. They’re my brother’s. I told him I’d take them off his hands for the day.”

“They look like they’re quite the handful,” she says. “They also look like they’re getting hungry. I’d say you’re about ten minutes from a full meltdown. The diner across the street does a really good kid’s meal.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate that,” he says.

He takes them across the street to the diner and orders up two kid’s meals for Dean and Cas and gets a salad for himself. Dean and Cas look pleased with the meal, plowing their way through it like they haven’t eaten all day (and judging from the amount of food on the table and floor in the kitchen that morning, it’s possible they didn’t get much in the way of breakfast).

Surprisingly, they wait patiently for Sam to finish his own meal, whispering to each other behind their chubby little hands. They’re sitting close to each other on the other side of the booth, the way they always do when they’re adults, but there’s something relaxed and unguarded about it now that they’re kids. At one point, Dean actually slings his arm around Cas’s neck and pulls him in closer, practically snuggling against him while they wait.

The waitress thinks it’s sweet, and says so as she drops off the check. “Are they brothers?”

“No, he’s my best friend!” Dean says, and he pulls Cas even closer. Cas gives a short nod to the waitress, and returns his attention to Dean.

Sam fishes some cash out of his wallet and hands it to the waitress. “They’re very close,” he mumbles.

* * *

 

All Sam wants to do is sleep. He wants to go back to sleep and wake up and have everything be normal again. By the time they get back to the bunker, Dean is rubbing his eyes with one balled up little fist, and Cas is kicking the back of the driver’s seat petulantly. Sam hauls them out of their booster seats and drops them unceremoniously in Dean’s room with the admonishment to take a fuc--friggin’ nap already. He stands menacingly over them with his hands on his hips until they snuggle under the covers. He turns out the light and stands in the doorway for a moment, listening until their breathing is slow and deep.

He’s going to need some help. And not the supernatural kind. He needs someone to help him out with Dean and Cas, because he can’t take another morning like the one he just had.

He tries Garth, who apologizes, and says that he’s hot on the trail of the striga, and can’t get away. There’s no answer when he tries Charlie. He briefly considers trying Kevin again, but decides against it almost immediately. That leaves Jody Mills.

She laughs for a good long five minutes when he tells her, which he’d been expecting. What he hadn’t been expecting was for Jody to tell him that she was an hour away.

“What?” Sam asks.

“Kevin called me. He told me what was going on and that he thought you might need some help. So I’ll be there in an hour. What’re the two...” she coughs, covering up a laugh. “The little rascals up to right now?”

“Napping.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a bit. It’ll be okay, Sam, promise.”

Sam bites back the “I’m not so sure about that,” as he says goodbye, and he settles in the library with his laptop. He needs to find the witch and figure out how to reverse the spell.

Instead, he falls asleep, chin drooping onto his chest. He’s woken by Jody banging on the door to the bunker. Scrubbing his face, he lets her in. She takes one look at him, gives him a hug and orders him to his room for a nap. “You look terrible, Sam. I’ll check on Dean and Cas.”

When Sam wakes up feeling refreshed after his nap, he finds Jody in the war room with Dean and Cas, who are playing a board game. The two little boys are engrossed in their game, and Jody comes over to stand next to Sam.

“I brought some of Owen’s old games and toys. Thought they might be useful,” Jody says quietly. She’s studiously avoiding Sam’s gaze, and it occurs to him that it’s been five years since they met her, five years since her son died, and she so rarely speaks about him. Not that he blames her, given how things turned out, but he finds that sometimes it’s easy to forget the horrific circumstances under which they met.

Although, Sam reconsiders, they meet just about everyone under pretty horrific circumstances.

“I know you’ve been going pretty much non-stop since this morning, so I’m not going to ask if you’ve figured out what happened. I’ve got these two. You go and get your research done. Just let me know if you need to go out.”

Sam thanks Jody and grabs his laptop. There is, of course, very little information on the internet about how to counteract de-aging spells, but he thought he’d give it a shot. After about 30 minutes of fruitless searching online, his next step is to search the Impala for hex bags. He lets Jody know he’ll be just outside, and she flaps a hand at him. Dean and Cas are knee-deep in Legos and are building... something... with her assistance.

A detailed search of the Impala proves useless as well. No hex bags to be found anywhere, not in the wheel wells, under the carriage, in the trunk or in any of a thousand other nooks and crannies in the car. The one positive to this is that Dean will be happy to know that the witch hasn’t messed with his car.

Sam hears Jody hollering his name, and he heads back into the bunker. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jody shoots him an odd look. “Nothing. Dinner.” She points at the table, which is laid out with food, and Dean and Cas are sitting next to each other, staring up at him with eager expressions.

“Hurry up, Sammy! I’m hungry,” Dean says in an impossibly high voice.

Sam sits across the table from the two, next to Jody, and can’t help but smile.

“What is it?” Jody asks, catching him.

Sam shrugs. “This is weirdly nice.”

Jody rolls her eyes. “Just eat.”

As they eat, Dean and Cas regale Sam with their adventures that afternoon - Cas won the boardgame (“Dean cheated, but I won anyway.”), and they made a castle, “With a moat!” It’s not only weirdly nice, Sam thinks, but it’s kind of charming.

Sam cleans up after dinner, and sighs as he realizes that he’s also cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. Dean owes him big for this. Jody gets Dean and Cas ready for bed, and then they all pile onto the couch to watch tv before it’s time for the little ones to go to sleep. Sam’s plans are to head out to find the witch after Dean and Cas go to sleep.

There’s really nothing appropriate for two little boys to watch, and neither Sam nor Jody are sure that they won’t have nightmares if they’re shown something too scary. They decide to watch a  documentary about dolphins on the Discovery Channel, and Dean and Cas drop off about half way through. Jody carries Cas down to Dean’s bedroom while Sam takes Dean. They tuck them both in and shut the door behind them.

“Don’t tell ‘em I said this, but those two are really cute,” Jody whispered.

“They’d kick your ass you know. Well, Dean would try,” Sam responds. Jody just laughs.

“You go and get that witch. We’ll be okay here.” She hesitates, and then leans up and kisses Sam on the cheek.

Sam smiles at Jody and then heads out of the bunker, double checking that his bag has everything he might need. The whole evening has him a bit off-kilter, because it was unusually domestic, something he’s really unused to. Not counting Amelia, the last time he had a quiet evening like that was with Jess, and he’s not sure about the feelings that dredges up. Even his time with Amelia had a much different feel to it than the evening he just spent. He shakes his head to clear it a bit and gets into the Impala.

He’s got a brother and an angel to re-age.

* * *

 

It turns out that it wasn’t a witch, it was witches - a boy and a girl who had found a grimoire in the basement and were experimenting. And it turns out that they are criers, bursting into tears the second Sam tells them why he’s there. The girl stops crying first, and shows Sam where the grimoire is, and while the boy is still crying, the girl helps Sam undo the spell. He takes the book from them and all the other witchcraft paraphernalia that he can find.

“Listen, this is stupid dangerous stuff, okay? Don’t mess around with it anymore.” He points a finger at them and tries to look as menacing as he can. He’s tired and irritable, so he manages it pretty well, he thinks. They nod solemnly. “And seriously, if I hear of anything else like this,” and here Sam looms over them, “I will come back and kill you.”

He walks away, feeling a little too satisfied with himself. It’s almost a let down, Sam thinks, given the amount of exhaustion he’s feeling. It should have been a little harder, but in the end, he’s thrilled if it means he doesn’t have to take care of his brother and his brother’s angel any more. Not as four year olds, or however old they are.

He gets back to the bunker in the wee hours of the morning. A peek into Dean’s room reveals that the reversal of the spell did in fact work, because now there’s an adult Dean and an adult Cas in Dean’s bed, and they’re curled around each other, fast asleep. Sam covers his mouth to suppress the snort of laughter; that’s going to be one heck of a wake up. Jody is fast asleep on the couch, and Sam wakes her gently and shows her to one of the guest rooms.

“Thanks, Jody,” he says. She just cups his face with one hand and says good night. He drags himself into his room and throws himself on his bed fully clothed, too exhausted to worry about changing.

Things are back to normal.

* * *

 

When Dean wakes up, he feels different. He feels larger than he felt all day yesterday, but he also feels warm and... _cocooned_. He opens his eyes and sees a large, hairy arm wrapped around his chest. Well, that explains the being cocooned part. He tries to roll over, but the arm squeezes him a little tighter and prevents him from moving.

“Don’t,” says the sleep-rough voice of Cas from behind him.

“Cas? What’re you doing?” Dean asks.

“I’m trying to sleep, Dean,” Cas responds, and Dean can’t exactly argue with the logic, but he’s also kind of wondering why Cas has him in a death grip, and so he asks.

There’s a slightly irritated sigh. “Because I liked how we were yesterday.”

“What, when we were kids? Cas, that’s...” Dean stops. Because he doesn’t really know exactly what it is. Because frankly, he liked it too. He liked that he could be free to hold onto his best friend whenever he wanted to. It felt good. It felt right.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Stop thinking so much. It’s like the pink sneakers.”

“What? What’s that even mean?” Dean asks. It’s really too early in the morning for this conversation.

“I wanted the pink sneakers. It doesn’t matter what other people say about the pink sneakers, it’s something I wanted.”

“Um, so...” Dean says, feeling a little too slow on the uptake. He’s usually faster to pick these things up.

Cas sighs, and the sound is a lot more irritated now. He manhandles Dean so they’re facing each other. “I am your pink sneakers. You want pink sneakers. No one else is going to care that you want the pink sneakers. Now can we go back to sleep?”

Dean thinks about that for a moment, and realizes that Cas is right, of course. However... “No, not yet.”

“Dean.”

“Not yet, Cas,” Dean says. He leans forward and kisses Cas.


End file.
